Creative Writing Prompts Many creative writers use prompts to generate new material. Prompts can be challenges -- for example, write a story using only one syllable words or craft an alphabet story where the first sentence begins with the letter A, the next sentence B, and so on -- or themes provided by journals, or a poem to which an writer can respond. For example, the Sun lists prompts and deadlines every issue. To see responses, check out "Readers Write." For a list of up-to-date journal prompts, deadlines, and contest information, see the Writing Program's bulletin board in Jensen on the second floor. Creative Writing Exercises Compiled by Catherine Reid Creative writing exercises, like any kind of warm-up routine before playing a sport or a musical instrument, help loosen up your imagination while honing your writing muscles. Though the exercises are more fun done with two or more people, each can be done alone. The prompts: 3) Create a story using words of one-syllable only, beginning with a phrase such as:
750words creative writing prompts . com ideas for writers People: Anis Mojgani. « A Cynical Optimist a7ibak ya3ammi. :')Anis Mojgani (Persian: انیس مژگانی) (born June 13, 1977) is a spoken word poet, visual artist and musician based in Portland, Oregon. Mojgani is a Bahá’í.Mojgani has been characterized as “geek genius” with “fiercely hopeful word arias”. Mojgani was born and raised in New Orleans, Louisiana, moved to Georgia and graduated from the Savannah College of Art and Design with a Bachelor of Fine Arts in Comic Book art and an Master of Fine Arts in Performing Arts. I first started listening to Anis (yeah I call him Anis, we are best friends now.. I’ve always loved def poetry, I didn’t really have a ‘favorite’ poet, so you do realize what this has done to me. DIRECT ORDERS (Rock Out) by Anis Mojgani.You have been given a direct order to rock the fuck out. Note that there will be other Anis Mojgani posts. Shout out: This post is dedicated to Hanan, for being one of the awesomest people I met in Worood -Shit- Academy. —————- Now playing: Balmorhea – Truthvia FoxyTunes Like this:
i'm here snow came down in austin today. it was almost seventy on sunday. sarah morgan visited this weekend. it was nice. sunday night was gabrielle's memorial. it filled me with sadness. it snowed today in austin. this evening i found hte track from balmorhea i heard on the radio the other day, to which i didnt know the name. we tried to go see them play in a church on friday night. the place was full and they had to cut off admittance somewhere so they stopped letting people in with the couple right before us. we walked all over downtown instead. got frozen yogurt, at this place that lets you pour your own, from 10 or twelve different flavors and you can mix and match and load up your own toppings, as many as you want. on saturday we watched the hurt locker. it was really good. one of the final scenes kinda fucked me up. it didnt catch up to me until the next night. it was the locks on the cage, closed over the iraqi man's chest. today is chris' birthday. it has been eleven i believe for us.
Toy Shed Nightmare, Rape Poem I still remember the dark dirty floor of the toy shed in the backyard. The pain as every piece of clothing I had onwas getting torn off in fast motions. The hand covering mymouth as I screamed for someone to help me. As I screamed with the sweaty hand over my mouth I thought that this was it, I was going to die. The pain was something I'd never felt before, it wasn't a cut nor a scrap. When really it was a fourteen year old boy crushing me as he forced his way into my innocence. At that moment I prayed that I would die. To this day there isn't a moment that goes by that I don't think about that day in the toy shed. No one should feel that way.
Fernando Pessoa Pessoa's statue in front of the Brasileira café in Lisbon See also: The Book of Disquiet Quotes[edit] A essência do universo é a contradição.Contradiction is the essence of the universe." Message[edit] Introduction: "Message" ("Mensagem") is Pessoa's the best known book. The Gods sell when they give. God wills, man dreams, the work is born. Without madness what is man more than the healthy beast, corpse adjourned that procreates? Oh salty sea, how much of your salt are tears of Portugal! Everything is worthwhile if the soul is not small. Here lies, in the small extreme beach, the Captain Of The End. The Book of Disquiet[edit]
Poetry for the 21st Century - 2/1279 - Poetry for everyone. » RATTLE: Poetry for the 21st Century Khadijah Queen An Essay Mothering is the ultimate convergence of public and private. From the moment your belly swells, the fact that you are/have been sexually active becomes publicly displayed. The implicit questions: Who has impregnated you? Then, assumptions begin—your body changes, and strangers act as witness. Is there some kind of human aversion to our own bodies that makes life-growing a shame to so many? Women who give birth out of wedlock or who have somehow separated from their partners have traditionally been shamed—for their aloneness, their state of supposed non-support, as if their vulnerability makes them difficult to look at, or worse, unworthy of being truly seen, because the damage—think of it! Not that I don’t feel the absence of a partner to help shoulder day-to-day responsibilities, especially the things I least enjoy doing, like bringing groceries in or maintaining the car. Which brings me to writing. Parenting takes everything you have and more.
PANK Magazine / Four Poems listen to this poem He enjoys the entrance the most, but not because of the gift shop. He already owns hundreds of magnets and an impressive coffee mug collection that crowds his counters and lines his window sills. He started collecting mugs to hold his other collections: pennies dated before 1943, capless markers, lithium batteries, hundreds of marker caps. The state champion wrestler is in love. His sweetheart is a quiet girl. On the hill, he will build a house by hand and she will grow a garden in the front yard. One day, she will discover she is growing a baby. On seeing his daughter, he will not go back to the bar. emptying bottles of anger in the kitchen sink. or tries to. her too soon. and he is cupping them, groping a dark room for sharp edges. and he needs to close his eyes to stop himself from collapsing the house of cards. From melting every crayon in the house. but she drags her hands down his chest as if motioning the beginning of a race. They try again.